


When the moon hides behind the clouds, Here I am (thinking of you)

by ImberReader



Series: Tomorrow (with you) [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: #JustSoftYearningThings, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, By which I mean part 2 is already posted if you're interested!, F/M, I do think you can read this as a standalone and this is actually more a prequel, Jaime as Brienne's Sworn Sword in aftermath of Long Night, Long journeys and late night conversations, Pining, Soft but a touch bittersweet so beware if you expect straight up fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImberReader/pseuds/ImberReader
Summary: The journey to Tarth is long, but by far Jaime's favorite and not least because of the way Brienne sometimes falls asleep on his shoulder while he dreams of things that won't come to pass.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Tomorrow (with you) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734799
Comments: 21
Kudos: 108





	When the moon hides behind the clouds, Here I am (thinking of you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sdwolfpup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/gifts).



> And I am alive, I suppose?
> 
> Prompted by lovely [sdwolfpup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/pseuds/sdwolfpup): "We talk in the dark as we fall asleep, and we are objects in the night sky outside of time. (it is the exact opposite of alone.)" And somehow, I've ended up revisiting an AU I didn't intend to expand on, but here we are. I do think it stands on its own two feet well enough, though, so! 
> 
> Written between 1am and 4am and it shows, and I am sorry. Thank you to [Roccolinde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roccolinde/pseuds/Roccolinde) for handholding and support as always.
> 
> Not beta-d. We embarrass ourselves publicly like men. You can find me on [tumblr](https://scoundrels-in-love.tumblr.com/).

The journey to Tarth was long.

The longest Jaime had had with (or for) her and his favorite, too.

They rode at even pace, though for the first week Brienne was uneasy and more jittery than he could recall ever seeing her, visibly pondering if she should just turn around and return to Sansa's side. He had distracted her, with jokes and stories of his past that danced just so around things he didn't wish to speak of.

A few times Jaime had slipped, but she had neither pushed him deeper with questions nor pitied him and again he marvelled at the way she permitted him to draw borders. There was little privacy and secret pain among Lannisters, only weaknesses to be discovered. And discovered they always were.

He enjoyed these conversations, how she'd share parts of her own childhood, the softness that'd paint her face much like the light filtering through the trees when she spoke of Evenfall Hall and it filled him with  _ longing _ to see it, almost greed to touch stones that were in likeness of ones that had built the sturdy fortress of honor and goodness within Brienne.

Jaime loved the silence, too, the sort that dripped in-between crackles of fire as Jaime settled in for the first watch of night and Brienne lingered still. They'd talk at first, their gazes set to the stars above and he'd learn her favorite constellations and myths, the way her voice dipped when she grew sleepy, before their words and thoughts wandered away, welcoming the quiet like horizon would a gentle sunset.

They were the only two people in the world, he would think then and mock himself for stumbling in familiar sentences, as if neither he nor the woman beside him were not different. But whereas with Cersei it had dripped with rage and hurt, Jaime could almost taste peace within the syllables now.

They were not outcast by their own hand as much as their duties, and there was warmth following them all the way from Winterfell, stitched in the cloaks Sansa had gifted them before departure, there was warmth here, between them as her head rested against his shoulder, and warmth that awaited them (her, surely) at end of their journey.

In this space untethered to time or even land, he dreamed. Dreamed of pressing a reverent kiss to her brow, of smoothing his thumb over her knuckles and not letting go.

Of basking in Brienne's smiles and knowing he had the rest of his lifetime to have his darkness bleached away by them, just enough to not mar her by his presence.

Of a journey where she didn't flush almost scarlet, her gaze swaying away from his clumsy and unhappy, when the innkeeper mistook them for married.

But in reality, he could only touch her for a shorter moment than a breeze, watch her stumble over requesting separate rooms and hope Lord Selwyn Tarth will be as all-encompassing blind to his sins as his daughter, though that was disservice to Brienne - she saw his faults perhaps more clearly than most. Was familiar with them in ways he wished she wasn't.

And yet, she had seen something that outweighed it all and as she tried to twist the mirror so he'd see it, too, he had watched her reflection and realized that even if it was mere fiction created by her generosity and faith in goodness, he would like to make himself a few shades more to its likeness.

It hadn't been her request, not really. Brienne had never asked anything of him for a long time now, not since the Dragonpit, not even when he wished she would.

("I am yours to command - am I to stay or to go with them?" he had asked, the night before armies departed for King's Landing.  _ Tell me you want me here. Tell me that... _

"I will do no such thing," she had said, firm and almost offended, almost sad.

"You could. Should. I am your swornsword now, my liege." He was desperate for an answer, any single one. Like a lifeline in the murkiness that was overtaking his limbs, driving him onward without even remembering what a road looked like.

"You always have the right to choices, Ser Jaime," Brienne had reminded him before ducking her head and looking away to where Sansa and Arya were. Later, he'd wonder if there were words in her mouth she had cast away with this move, but in that moment he could only think of her angry snarl a lifetime ago melting away, an odd understanding in her eyes.  _ We don't choose who we love _ .

He understood then, too.

He hadn't  _ chosen  _ to love her and had been born love-bound to Cersei that had spun out of control, but he had made choices for these loves again and again, long before either had names, and if his blood was to nurture one, he would pick the field of blue rather than the dried tree that would impale him upon its bare branches. He had tried to nurture it, but the roots were long since rotten.

The next morning, when she had smiled a trembling, relieved smile, Jaime loved her more for not asking and yet, he wondered if he'd ever stop thinking that demands meant he was wanted.)

He would think of all this and more and though his body would ache for a soft bed come morning, he preferred these nights on the road where he could dream in rhythm with her breathing, full of trust.

Sometimes, he rested his cheek against the crown of her head before he'd remember the way the ease would collapse in on itself from mere change in wind and she'd shrink back away from him like his touch or smile held the sound of a drawn sword, and he straightened up feeling as if he was stealing. It was not as if he was starved for her attention or even affection and yet, he craved and took more without her permissions. A man with honor, she had called him and yet he could not truly be one even for the one person who deserved it most.

The movement sometimes startled her awake , making Brienne murmur an apology and return to her tent, leaving him bereft and cold in a way that was entirely his doing. ( _ All that self-acclaimed change and yet, it is the same. _ )

But none of that could tarnish the brightness in him that gathered drop by drop, day by day as they travelled on. Sometimes, Jaime thought it was  _ visible _ somehow, a glow beneath his skin that caught Brienne's eyes the closer they came to Tarth. He would catch her looking, attentive and inquiring almost, as if she couldn't quite figure something out and he wished she would tell him the question because there was no answer he'd deny her, if only he had it.

Maybe when she was home, she'd find the words.


End file.
